Fantasy
by lifeluver
Summary: Spoilers for 3x05.  Kurt Hummel does not believe in the bad boy effect.


Kurt Hummel did not believe in the bad boy effect.

He didn't want a snarky anti-hero who made him miserable 99% of the time only to make up for it with fabulous sex.

Personally, he thought Buffy was insane for nailing Spike when there was a perfectly hot vampire with an actual soul just a few miles (and one network) away.

So no, Kurt had never been enamored with the bad boy side of the love triangles he'd seen countless times on television. He knew better than to fall for that smarmy charm because as exciting as it could be, it was destined to flame out in a dramatic blaze of glory that leaves the protagonist heartbroken and crying into her Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and Kurt did not conform to any stereotypes, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, Blaine did not possess quite the same level of common sense as his boyfriend.

Xxx

"Come on, Kurt, it'll be fun! It's just one night."

"Why on earth do you want to go to drag night on a Thursday at a gay bar that's thirty miles away?" He wasn't about to say it, but Kurt couldn't help but think if Blaine was feeling that kinky, he should just rent some porn like everyone else. It saves significant money on gas even if he did always wind up contemplating the poor participants family history and how they wound up in their predicament, and if maybe one day Richard Gere would sweep one of them off their feet, and why couldn't they just watch Pretty Woman instead?

"Sebastian invited me, he said it's always a blast and…" Blaine's still talking, but he's got that dreamy look in his eye that he got when he was talking about Jeremiah and his idiotic plan to get a 50% discount at the Gap (and really, try dreaming a bit bigger why don't you? If you're going to gold dig, at least do it with someone who works at Gucci, or Marc Jacobs, honestly) and hell no if this is about to happen.

"And who is Sebastian?" he asks, his voice sharp and eyebrows arched.

"Huh? Oh, he's the new lead singer of the Warblers. Remember when I told you I was going to visit? He's a _senior_."

"I'm a senior. Most people think you're a senior." Petulance may not be a good shade on him, but obnoxiously smitten is just hideous on Blaine.

"He sang the most beautiful P!nk song I'd ever heard in my life. _Please__don__'__t__leave__me_," Blaine imitates for a moment.

Well now that's just an unfortunate bit of irony, and not the Alanis Morissette kind.

"Argh, I can't do it justice. It was incredible; we're really going to have trouble beating them at Sectionals if he keeps this up."

"Somehow I think we'll manage," he replies, for once relishing the thought of siccing Rachel Berry on her new competition. Maybe she'd find another crackhouse, and an active one this time.

"Anyway, he told me I should come along, and there won't be another one for like a month. It could be a great way to learn more about our community, don't you think Kurt? I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I invited a guest."

"Well that's very big of him," Kurt says and immediately regrets it, because now he's wondering just how big this guy is.

"So are you coming?"

"Yes, I'm coming Blaine," he says wearily, because hell if he's going to let his boyfriend go running off to a bar with some Jesse St. James wannabe.

"Great! My car is in the shop, so you can pick me up around seven, ok? And dress nice, we want to fit in!"

With that Blaine heads off to class, coffee in hand, leaving Kurt to ponder whether he just got invited solely to transport his boyfriend on his pseudo-date and how much exactly he was supposed to fit in at a drag queen night.

Xxx

A few hours, one extremely convoluted excuse to his father and two fake IDs supplied by Puck (the details of this exchange are never to be publicized) later, and Kurt is walking into his first ever gay bar.

"Wow, I can't believe we got in!" Blaine exclaims next to him, his voice straining to be heard over the music (Lady Gaga and Beyonce? My god, he's home at last.)

"I can't believe he only carded _me_."

"What?" Blaine yells, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Never mind," Kurt mutters with a sigh.

"Look, there he is! Come on." With that, Blaine is hightailing it across the dance floor, leaving Kurt to follow him awkwardly through the sea of Tina Turner impersonators, most of whose costumes are really quite impressive. He makes a mental note to ask the sequined one about his design background right after squashing his boyfriend's hideous crush in its tracks.

"Hi Sebastian!" Blaine says breathily, and dear God he's actually standing on his tippy toes. Kurt wants to vomit.

"Hey kiddo, you made it," The Smarmy-Bastard replies. "So glad you came. Do you want a drink?"

"I'd love one, thanks." Great. Because Blaine plus alcohol always led to sound decision-making.

"Hi, I'm Kurt," he interjects, reaching one arm around Blaine. "It's lovely to meet you at last, I've heard _so_ much about you."

Blaine flushes scarlet under the strobe lights and mutters something that sounds like "not that much," in Sebastian's general direction.

"Why hello to you too," he says with a smooth smile and a firm grasp of his hand which, despite the heat, manages to be completely sweat-free. "Blaine didn't mention he had such handsome friends at his school."

Not going to work, buddy. Kurt had rather perfected the art of ignoring the charms of good looking men after spending last year in the same math class as Puckerman, whose need to cheat was only rivaled by his need to eat and have sex.

For his part, Blaine looked rather horrified. Though not in the way Kurt was really intending.

"Would you like a drink as well?"

"Can't, I'm the designated driver here. So I hear you've succeeded Blaine as the de facto leader of the Warblers. I'm surprised, I would have assumed seniority would have won out in that crowd."

Subtly question his achievements? Check.

"The Warblers really value talent above all, and Sebastian-"

Sebastian cooly cuts Blaine off. "As it turns out they are rather like lemmings. With Blaine and their former council graduated they were wandering around like chicken with their heads cut off, desperate for some guidance. Bending them to my will was shockingly simple."

Well. That was blunt.

Blaine is gaping. "The Warblers are a sacred institution that date back…" his voice is drowned out by the next song, which of course is Pink, and the Conniving-Douchebag's face lights up.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, extending his arm to Blaine and bending low and _oh__my__god. _

All disrespect to a sacred institution suddenly forgotten, Blaine turns to Kurt with wide puppy dog eyes. "I mean, if you don't mind..."

"No, why on earth would I mind you dancing with this guy, leaving me all by myself over here," Kurt answers with an eyeroll.

"Great! We'll be right back."

…Apparently three sips of rum and coke and Blaine completely loses his ability to comprehend sarcasm. Good to know, he supposes, as he watches them head out onto the dance floor.

Blaine is grinning like a complete moron, and honestly, what happened to that boy's self esteem that makes him this susceptible to the questionable charms of someone as obviously sleazy as-

Sebastian pulls off his jacket and tosses it aside, revealing a wifebeater beneath and well, fuck.

It's not that he really believes Blaine would cheat. He might get intoxicated enough to make out with someone, but he'd never let it go further than that. He's completely in love with Kurt, and Kurt knows it. But some nights (this night) he has to wonder how, out of all the (three) gay boys in Lima, he somehow ended up with the world's biggest and most oblivious flirt as a boyfriend. Seriously, he doesn't even think what he's doing is _wrong_.

Mercedes told him earlier that he should just tell Blaine that this behavior makes him uncomfortable, and that she knows how to take a firm hand with Shane (which, ew). But Kurt has found that with Blaine, straight-forwardness is not necessarily the optimum path.

For example: Telling Blaine point-blank that he is in love with him, putting his soul, his very essence on the line, opening up his heart to love. And what does he get? Insta-friendzone. But sing a Beatles song dedicated to your dead bird that was given to you as a hazing ritual? Suddenly he's been looking for him forever. Whatever gets the job done.

No, sometimes you just have to trust your gut, and Kurt's gut told him that in this instance, it was far preferable to be secretive, sneaky and manipulative.

"Uh, don't look now but I think your boyfriend might be making a move on another guy."

"Thank you, I can see th—Dave?"

"Hey Kurt." The other boy was blushing furiously, but smiled hesitantly at him.

"You know this is a gay bar, right?" Kurt asks dumbly.

"Yeah. The, uh, the men in the cages kind of gave that away." Huh? Kurt really needed to stop obsessing over this Blaine thing and take in a bit of the scenery.

"So what are you doing here? Aren't you worried people will see you?" No, that's not bitterness in his voice, he's just had a very long day.

"Not really. I graduated, remember? College is different than high school. Plus my boyfriend insisted I come here tonight." Karofsky gestured behind him towards the back of a blonde boy's head, who was chatting animatedly with the sequined Tina Turner that Kurt had been eyeing earlier.

"Oh. Well, he's cute." Dear God, he's gossiping about boys with his high school tormenter. The universe just likes to pile it on, doesn't it?

"Thanks," Karofsky says with a smile. "Speaking of boyfriends, yours looks like he's about to get pregnant over there."

Kurt turns around so fast he nearly gets whiplash. Sure enough, Sebastian has got his hands all over Blaine's ass, pulling him close. Blaine is giggling and Kurt can tell he's already pretty drunk which is fairly impressive given he's only had one drink. Maybe Sebastian forgot to order the 'coke' in his rum and coke.

"Aren't you gonna do something about that?"

"Of course not. I'm hardly going to make a scene in the middle of the dance floor."

Karofsky looks skeptically at him, as if he thinks this is exactly something that Kurt would do, which, ok he might. But not tonight. Tonight he has a plan. And anyone who knows Kurt Hummel knows that his plans are fucking brilliant.

"No. If Blaine wants to make a fool out of himself with his new crush, so be it."

"Well, you're taking this far better than I would. If Canada was dancing like that with another guy, I'd have punched him out ages ago."

Kurt nearly chokes on his own spit at the familiar name, and immediately pushes back the unwanted mental images that it brings.

"Well, I'll let you get back to…Canada. Now. If you would."

Karofsky winks at him (and oh my god, what is his life, really) and says, "Anytime you want me to beat up Blaine, just let me know." With that he is mercifully gone, and Kurt turns to the task of cleansing his brain.

He sips his soda for a few minutes, eyeing his traitorous boyfriend and the Scum-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named jam to the next song and wondering how he never noticed just how spastic Blaine's dancing really is.

"Hey, can I buy you a drink?" He turns to find a tall man, probably in his early twenties, with dark brown hair, a strong build and a warm smile staring at him. According to those internet printouts Rachel had helpfully given him (that he had immediately trashed, dug up and skimmed, then quickly trashed again) he would be classified as a bear.

"Sorry, I'm actually here with someone," he answers and thinks _see__Blaine?__That__'__s__how__you__do__it_ though Blaine can't see.

"Lucky guy. Let me know if you change your mind." The guy slips a piece of paper into Kurt's back pocket and _oh. _That wasn't wholly unpleasant. If this is what being flirted with is like he can kind of see why Blaine might be taken in by that.

Not that that excuses anything. At all.

"Kurt! Come dance with me!"

Blaine's back, sloppily drunk, and dragging Kurt out onto the dance floor with a wide smile and wandering hands, and Kurt decides that his plan to destroy the object of his boyfriend's flirtations can wait a little while.

Xxx

"Whaddya think about Sebastian, Kurt?"

Kurt rolls his eyes as he tried to support Blaine's weight and half-drag him to the car. He is already going to miss his curfew, and his dad is gonna be pissed.

"He was wonderful."

"Doesn't he have a beaufful voice?" Blaine slurs.

"I didn't hear him sing, Blaine. How about you help me get you into the car, then we'll talk about this more."

"Oh. Well he does. You'll hear him sing at Sectionals, he's got such an amazing voice."

"Yeah, I'm sure he's the second coming of John Lennon."

"…I like the Beatles."

"I've noticed that." Kurt awkwardly props Blaine against his car and opens the back seat. "Okay, in you go big guy." Blaine topples in and grabs Kurt's collar to pull him in with him so that his torso is in the car on top of Blaine and his legs are hanging out the door. They must make quite the sight.

Blaine sloppily plants a kiss on his lips and Kurt figures if he's already late, he may as well accept it. He deepens the kiss and tries to take control. Then without warning Blaine starts unbuckling his belt.

"Whoa, hold it soldier."

"Come on Kurt, we've been waiting forever. Let's have some fun."

"Yeah, how about we have some fun somewhere we can both fit and close a door behind us. This is a bit too close to encouraging voyeurism for my taste."

Blaine looks confused and Kurt remembers he's a bit too plastered to be having a serious discussion with. "Now where were we?"

He leans down and kisses him again, this time grinding up against Blaine's erection. As Quinn would say, it's all about the teasing and not about the pleasing. (What? Just because it wasn't official or voluntary doesn't mean he wasn't part of the celibacy club in spirit.)

"Oh," Blaine groans and Kurt smiles as he pushes harder. "No, Kurt—"

Before he can finish the thought his face seizes up and then goes lax. Kurt stares at him, his mouth in a perfect 'o' shape.

"Uh…"

"Get off," Blaine says, no less drunk but suddenly with purpose.

"Blaine, it's no big deal, it happens to everyone," he says, trying really hard not to laugh. If they put this as a side-effect to alcohol he's pretty sure no teenager would go near the stuff. He climbs out of the car and Blaine practically shoots out behind him.

"Where are you going?" Kurt asks, the giggle creeping into his tone. "Blaine, come on, stop!"

"I'm going home! I'll, I'll see you later Kurt."

"You're going to walk thirty miles? Seriously?"

"I'll call a cab!"

"Honestly Blaine," he says, catching up with him and grabbing the back of his jacket. "Slow down. I'll drive you home, it's no big deal."

"You know what, I'm going back inside. Yeah. I'll see you later Kurt."

Blaine shrugs him off and stumbles inside, a telltale stain on the front of his jeans.

"Oh, fantastic."

Xxx

He can hardly leave his wasted boyfriend in a gay bar with no way home, but he's not about to drag him out of there kicking and screaming, so Kurt sits on the hood of his car (not pouting, thank you very much) and waits.

To be honest, the night went actually significantly better than he had expected it to. He had envisioned some dramatic showdown with the Over-Styled-Boyfriend-Poacher that ends in tears, a little blood, and Blaine furious at him. All in all, making his boyfriend cum in his pants was an improvement.

"Hello Kurt."

Kurt nearly falls off his car. (Okay, he actually falls off his car, but he gets back on really fast, so it's entirely possible that nobody notices.)

"Sebastian," he says primly, attempting to hold on to the small amount of dignity he has left.

"Your friend is puking in the girls bathroom inside."

"They have girls bathrooms in gay bars?"

"For the drag queens mostly. And hags."

"Ah." Rachel would be thrilled.

Kurt very seriously considers going to help clean up his poor, sick boyfriend. He then very seriously considers the image of said boyfriend getting all up in this guys grill while dancing and decides he can wait a bit longer.

Sebastian sits down next to him. Kurt shoots him his best death glare. Sebastian does not seem to be effected.

"Nice night, isn't it?" he says, like the smug asshole he is. Remarking on the _weather_.

"Indeed. It's supposed to rain all week though. Also, stay away from my boyfriend or I will end you."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow and Kurt thinks that he ought to have that move patented.

"You are, huh?"

"Well, I'll throw the first debilitating punch, then I will have my preternaturally large step-brother and his merry band of goons do the rest. Either way, you will be ended."

Sebastian's lip twitches and Kurt gets the feeling he's being laughed at. "Is that so?"

"Yes. I know what you're up to."

"You do, do you?"

"Of course. Your whole act is so two years ago. You're going to seduce Blaine, get him to fall in love with you, and then dump him right before Sectionals thus destroying him emotionally and rendering him, and the rest of our group by default, unable to perform. Also there might be an egging involved somewhere."

Sebastian stares at him incredulously. "That's…the dumbest idea I've ever heard. Did that actually _work?__"_

Kurt thinks back. "Sort of. It's up for debate. The point is, it's not going to work _this__time_.

"Well," Sebastian says, scooting closer to him. "That's not my plan."

"No?" Kurt asks, his voice breathier than he would like as Sebastian's arm goes casually around his back.

"No. That would imply that I feel I have to destroy your club to beat you. And while that might be an entertaining adventure, that I will seriously consider now that you've brought it up," shit, "I don't see you guys as any remote competition so it's not necessary. To be honest, after I dominated the Warblers they told me their ex-lead had defected for New Directions, I momentarily panicked. Then I remembered that the ex-lead hadn't even won Regionals, and the club he defected for placed in twelfth at Nationals, and I'm far superior in talent to anyone in this country, much less this state, and I was no longer worried."

"Oh. Well then."

"Indeed," Sebastian says with a smile, his fingers tapping a beat on Kurt's hand.

"Then why did you invite Blaine out tonight?"

"Oh, that. He was fawning all over me, and he's kind of like a puppy, you know? So I decided to squash him completely for the fun of it."

Kurt stares. "I…hope you never get a puppy."

Sebastian laughs, deep and throaty. His hand slides up Kurt's arm. "You're funny, you know that," he says, his voice lower and leaning into him.

"And you're more of a sociopath than Jesse St. James."

"I don't know who that is, but I pride myself in being the best at everything."

He's so close now that Kurt can count the freckles on his nose, can feel his warm breath against his skin. Sebastian's lips are parted slightly, and his eyes are watching him intently.

"You, on the other hand. I get the impression you're just as manipulative as I am. And I think we could make quite the team, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt's heart is pounding and Sebastian's hand is now cupping his chin. This guy is calling him equally as sociopathic as he is, he should not be remotely turned on by this.

"What do you say?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips touch Kurt's, smirking slightly.

"Kurt? I'm sorry, I wanna go home now." Blaine's calling from across the parking lot, sounding every bit as pathetic as he probably feels after puking in a girls toilet for the past half an hour.

Sebastian pulls away and hops off the car.

"Until we meet again, Kurt," he says, and struts off into the distance.

"Over here," Kurt calls, his voice high. Blaine stumbles back into his line of sight and Kurt feels a rush of affection for his sweet, moronic boyfriend who should never be allowed in the general vicinity of alcohol.

"Need a hand, hun?" He slips off the car clumsily, his heart still beating too fast, and Blaine envelops him in a hug, nearly knocking them both off balance.

"I'm so sorry. I was being so immature, and I was so embarrassed about that, and I feel awful and I'm so, so sorry. Please don't be mad?" Blaine shoots him the puppy dog eyes, and Kurt suddenly feels rather nauseous himself.

"I'm not mad," he assures him, and kisses his boyfriend once, then again with more passion. "I love you."

Blaine smiles goofily and kisses him back. "I love you too. And you have a much nicer voice than Sebastian. He kinda sounds like the crab from the Little Mermaid."

"Looks like him too," Kurt quips easily, and helps Blaine into the car and buckles his seatbelt.

Blaine falls asleep about forty five seconds into the drive, leaving Kurt alone with his traitorous thoughts.

No, Kurt did not believe in the bad boy effect. They were like croissants—delicious in the short term, but bad for you in the long term (and go straight to your hips, the devils). And Kurt Hummel believed in the long term, he believed in making his relationship with Blaine work, because he loved him more than anything even when he was an oblivious idiot. He loved him _because_he was an oblivious idiot. And Blaine loved him in spite of and because he was a manipulative schemer.

Still, he rationalizes as he drives down the highway, his lips tingling and his heart racing, there is nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy.


End file.
